


Death Is A Gift

by xlivvielockex



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Vampire Buffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1674383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xlivvielockex/pseuds/xlivvielockex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vampire Buffy rises from her grave</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Is A Gift

She’s been dead before, a few times actually, more times than anyone really should be dead. Most people, they die once, and that’s it. This is becoming habit for her. She tells herself this is the last time. She isn’t going to die again. 

But this time, it feels different. She can’t hear her heartbeat, she knows her skin is cool to the touch, and while she’s little more than a walking corpse, she feels strong. Stronger. She feels something in her, a gnawing hunger starting in her belly and spreading through her body like fire, causing an ache from the top of her head to the tip of her fingers, to the soles of feet. Her body, her limbs, they want to move. They want to break free. They want to turn this town red. 

She’s been in a coffin before. It wasn’t as nice as this one. This one is lined in satin with thick padding under her back. She admires it for a moment before the irritation takes over. She brings her fist up, ripping the delicate fabric and smashing through the fiberglass top. She feels it cut her fingers and the pain merely spurs her on. 

Her mind is consumed by the hunger. It screams at her to get out of here, to get back to town. She wants to taste blood in her mouth not the bits of dirt and dust that sprinkle down on her tongue. Her brain tells her hands that if they work faster, harder, soon one of them will be around the neck of some young virgin, the other muffling his screams. Her brain tells her legs to kick harder so that soon they would be wrapped around her sire in a lover’s embrace. It only encourages her body in its task. 

She’s been here before. The earth spilling into the hole she’s created, the clawing and digging to fight her way to the surface. Her lungs don’t burn this time. Her body doesn’t fight against her, urging her to stay in the soil, where she belongs. The twisting, burning, screaming hunger in her keeps her going, up towards the world. Her body knows the sun has sunk below the horizon and that just outside of this prison is her sire, waiting to take her to the slaughter.

She’s the other side of the coin. She was now the creature she had spent so many years fighting. She was the girl that had fought the monsters, both real and imaginary. Now she was the monster. Now she was free. Free from the obligation, free from dying over and over again, free from yet another resurrection at the hands of her friends, free at last from her grave.

She’s crawled against the cool earth before, belly against it like a snake slithering out of the ground. Her blonde hair is covered in dirt, clumps of it sticking to the strands. She feels even the smallest particle of earth under her fingernails. She can hear crickets in the distance of the graveyard. She can smell his scent before she even sees him, her sire. Still on hands and knees, she looks up, his blue eyes looking down at her. 

“’Ello, love.”


End file.
